Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Grilled Sardines: Obrigado for the memory...

Having spent much of
the past couple of months moaning about the weather, it’s a very enjoyable duty
to redress the balance and celebrate the glorious end of May we’ve been
enjoying down in this part of the World.
It’s been positively Mediterranean, and it would be criminal not to make
the most of it by eating plenty of fresh fish. And firing up the barbeque.

There are few things
simpler and more satisfying in life than a good grilled sardine – which may
have a great deal to do with the fact that there are few things in life more
redolent of a balmy evening in Spain or Portugal. Or West London: My sister used to live in Trellick
Tower, the iconic Erno
Goldfinger designed block that looms over the top of Golborne Road, close
to the foot of which is a Portuguese community centre. Or at least there was – I don’t know if
it’s still there, but I certainly hope so. The Portuguese community is, thank god, because with them
come the fabulous, and justifiably famous Lisboa
Patisserie - home of the best Pasteis
de Nata in London, if not the world (I say that, I can’t possibly know,
never having even been to Lisbon) - and the only slightly less fabulous, but
considerably less famous (and therefore less rammed) Oporto
patisserie and deli over the road.
Anyway, back when my sister lived there, it was a rare evening in the
summer months that the aroma of char-grilling sardines wasn’t wafting up to the
27th floor from the front yard of the community centre below, and if
I close my eyes I can still smell it now.
And I know some people have a problem with the smell of cooking fish,
particularly oily fish like sardines or mackerel
(which you can of course get round by simply not
cooking them), but I don’t, and I mean that in an entirely good way. Proust
can keep his madeleines,
I’ll take sardines sizzling over charcoal every time (or if it has to be a
cake, then a pastel de nata).

Of course, like
anything that’s redolent of a particular time and place, it’s never quite the
same when you do it yourself in the here and now, but it is still damned good,
and, as I said, really couldn’t be simpler. The two most (indeed only) crucial things are that your
sardines are good and fresh and your grill good and hot. Pretty much everything else takes care
of itself. Season your fish simply
with salt and pepper, a bit of olive oil.
Marinate them (but only briefly) in lemon juice with a bit of the zest
grated over if you like, but it’s not necessary. Keep it simple.
And make sure you have a decent metal fish slice or spatula – I seem to
have mislaid mine and my tongs (otherwise one of my favourite implements, if
you don’t have a decent pair I highly recommend investing in some) left rather
more sardine seared to the grill that I’d have liked. But never mind, it’s not a delicate, elegant kind of dish,
and if the fish ends up in bits on your plate it may be a disappointment but
it’s not the end of the world.
Just close your eyes and savour the aroma.

On this occasion I
served it up with what some people might call an Iberian style warm potato
salad, but I’d call jersey royals tossed with fried chorizo and pine nuts, and
a handful of chopped parsley, and a simple but brightly refreshing salad of
tomato, cucumber and red onion. It
was both delicious and a fitting way to celebrate the return of the sun to our
lives.

Labels

About Me

I am a self taught cook who honed my skills professionally under Mark Hix at the Rivington Bar & Grill in Shoreditch, before realising that the life of a restaurant chef is a life fit only for crazy people. I like to think I’m not crazy, so now I cook mainly for myself and my girlfriend Becca. I am still available for hire, though: if you might be interested, check out my website at sebastianroach.com.
This blog is a vehicle for my general food related musings and the odd restaurant review, mainly though, it’s an account of the food I cook at home. I like to keep it simple, but make it good. Simple, good and mostly dairy free, because Becca is sadly allergic, which is a real shame, because she would surely love cheese. An accidental consequence of that is that this blog stands as proof that dietary restrictions don’t need to mean restricted flavour. I hope so, anyway, but that’s not the main point. The main point is to share my love of good food, and show that eating well can be, well, simple.
Cheers.